Jessie's Mom
by mebeinme
Summary: Sam gets a surprising phone call. No slash. Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
1. Chapter 1

"Take it easy, son. That there's the last of it" said Bobby without heat. Dean tipped back the half-empty bottle once more before placing it pointedly back on the table.

"Damn witches," he muttered.

Sam returned from the kitchen with a small smirk on his face. "So how exactly is it that she managed to get the jump on you?"

"I was… distracted" Dean said, trailing off.

"Uh-huh" Sam smiled, "More like seduced". He plopped down on the couch next to Dean holding out a bag of frozen peas. Dean shrugged, immediately wincing at the flare in his shoulder. Sam slowly positioned the frozen bag over Dean's right shoulder. Dean hissed at the contact, but threw a grateful glance Sam's way.

After they'd exhausted the best of their insults, and Bobby threatened to "kick their asses five ways from Sunday", the three fell into a comfortable silence. Bobby sat at his desk, flipping through news articles and lore books. Sam sat on the edge of the couch reading a book on Latin with Dean sprawled out across him, snoring lightly.

Sam's phone broke the silence. Dean shifted, muttering something unintelligible. Sam laughed and reached over to graph his cell off the table. "Hello?" he answered.

"Sam?"

Sam lurched forward like he'd been kicked in the stomach. His phone dropped to the floor. His breathing became shallow. Dean having been awoken by the movement mumbled, "What's your problem?" Sam remained frozen.

"Boy?" Bobby said worriedly from across the room. Dean recognized the tone and sat up. He eyed Sam, fear slowly creeping in.

Chatter from his phone on the floor finally shook Sam out of his state. He lunged for his phone and, standing upright slowly, turned his face from Bobby and Dean's.

"Hello Mrs. Moore" he spoke into the receiver. Bobby and Dean exchanged looks. No matter what this phone call was about, it was going to send Sam spiraling. Of course, they had no idea why Jessica's mom was calling Sam, because Sam's side of the conversation consisted mostly of "mhm", "good" and "okay"s.

"Um" said Sam shifting uncomfortably, "Really?... Yes ma'am I remember…. I'll see you tomorrow then".

He hung up and turned back around. His face was blank but his eyes shown with grief. Sam started towards the kitchen but Dean caught him by the arm. "Sammy…" Sam gave a weak smile.

"It's okay, Dean. I'm okay."

"Sam what did she want?"

Sam sighed and sagged back onto the couch next to Dean. Looking at his baby brother, Dean was struck by how old he looked. Of course the life aged every hunter beyond their years, but this Sam sitting before him seemed so tired, as if he'd seen it all.

_When did this happen? When did my Sammy get so old?_

"She has something for me."

"What is it?" Dean asked.

Sam emitted another exasperated sigh. He really needed to stop doing that.

"I don't know Dean. It was something of Je.." he cleared his throat. "It was something of Jessica's."

"Oh." There was a beat of silence. All he wanted was to say something, anything to make it all better.

Dean reached out to lay his hand on his shoulder. "Sammy—"

Sam cleared his throat again and shrugged off Dean's hand. "I…ahem… I'm gonna go get some stuff together".

Dean frowned, running both hands through his spiky hair. "Dean, don't get your panties in a twist" Bobby said. "Sam's gonna deal with this and he's gonna be just fine. He always is."

"I know but, God! Why Sam? Why is all the crap always piling up on him? I mean I knew he loved Jessica, but I kinda thought we were past.. I dunno, the pain?"

"Poor kid just can't catch a break" Bobby agreed. "But Dean, love don't go away. Ever. Once it's there, it's there for good. Like it or not."

"Well thank you Lucy, that was beautiful" Dean sneered.

"Don't sass me, ya idgit." Bobby went back to reading.

Dean trudged out into the yard to work on the Impala. It really could use a tune up, especially since Sam was about to take it out a few hundred miles. If it broke down, Sam wouldn't know how to fix it. At least not the way he could. Dean shrugged out of his jacket and got to work.

Though the whole touchy-feely talk wasn't his favorite subject, Bobby had got him thinking. He loved Lisa. And Ben. And no manner of time could ever change that. Maybe it was just all the crap Sam had recently been put through had been a more prominent source of pain, though recent included the last several years.

"Aw crap" Dean exclaimed. He knew what all this meant. It was chick flick time.

Slowly, Dean climbed the stairs, counting each one, stepping on each familiar place that creaked to announce his presence. As he approached the guest bedroom he and Sam usually shared, he raised a hand and knocked lightly and whispered, "Sam?"

"Yeah?" came a meek reply. However, what struck Dean was that it came not from behind the door he was knocking on, but the one across the hall to the bathroom. Dean turned and opened it. He found pretty much what he was expecting: Sam slung over the toilet having no doubt just paid tribute to the porcelain god.

"Sammy" Dean sighed heavily.

"Dean", Sam lifted his head slightly to meet Dean's gaze, "I don't feel so good".

Dean barked a laugh. "No dip Sherlock!" His rough voice didn't match his wandering eyes, searching Sam for any other injuries out of pure habit. The big brother gig would never wear off.

Dean sat next to Sam slowly rubbing his back as another wave of nausea hit. He pulled a glass from the counter and filled it with water from the tap. "Drink", he ordered. Sam rinsed his mouth out a bit and attempted to drain the whole glass, but Dean tugged it from after only a few sips. "Slow down! You're gonna make yourself sick again".

After a good fifteen minutes of puke-free Sam, Dean rose. "Up you go gigantor." Dean pulled Sam to his feet, slung Sam's arm over his shoulder, and brought his arm around Sam's waist.

"I can walk Dean" Sam protested, but Dean knew he said it only out of embarrassment. Dean drug Sam to his bed and pulled the covers up over him. Sam's feet still hung off the end of the bed, and Dean couldn't help but remember when they so tiny that he'd hear their light steps across the hardwood floor as Sam came to crawl in bed with him.

"Thanks" said Sam.

"Dude. It's just an afternoon with an old lady. It'll be fine."

"Yeah."

Dean retrieved the glass from the bathroom and brought it to the nightstand.

"Just get some sleep. I don't want you driving my baby into a ditch."

"Yeah, yeah." Dean turned out the lights and left the room. A soft, "Dean?" immediately called him back.

"Yeah kiddo?"

"Could you come with me?"

Dean stood a moment without speaking, just looking into his pleading brother's eyes. Damn how he had him wrapped around his freakishly large finger.

"Sure thing, Sammy."


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Bobby didn't look a bit surprised to see two bags sitting at the base of the stairs. He fixed a quick breakfast for the two and watched them through the living room window until the long black Chevy was out of sight.

Sam looked content sitting in the passenger seat, his eyes watching the road fly by. But Dean did not miss the slight crease in his brow.

Dean was just as happy to drive. Nothing could beat the feeling of black asphalt beneath his baby's tires and the framed view of the wide open road stretched out in front of him.

After a while of Sam not moving or talking, Dean decided to break the tension.

"Jeez, stop thinking so loud. You're giving me a headache!" Dean teased.

"That's cute Dean" Sam said.

"Yeah I am! But really, stop worrying." Sam nodded, but merely as an acknowledgement that Dean was heard. Dean shook his head and turned up Nirvana.

* * *

><p>"Take a right there" Sam directed. Dean flicked on his turn signal. They had finally reached Kirwin, Kansas, a quaint little town near the border with a whopping population of 205.<p>

"Dude, if I see one more cornfield, I'm gonna hurl."

After several more twists and turns, they finally reached a gravel driveway and turned in.

"Park right up there. See where that tree is? Yeah right there." Dean turned the key and pulled it from the ignition. Neither one moved.

"Um," Dean said, "shouldn't we.." he gestured toward the house.

"Right, just give me a second." Dean watched as Sam breathed in every detail, all of it so familiar. A minute later, he looked Dean square in the eye and got out of the car. Waves of determination, apprehension and excitement rolled off Sam. He walked straight up to the door and rapped the old fashion, rusted knocker twice.

"Coming! Just one moment!" Sam smiled slightly at the voice.

The door opened to reveal a woman that looked so much like Jessica, Dean practically blanched at the sight. She was older, taller, but she had the same long blonde wavy hair.

"Oh, Sam! I'm so happy you came!" She hugged Sam warmly. "And you brought a friend! Please come in both of you." She led them to the living room and sat them down in large ornate chairs. After refreshments and introductions were passed around, she joined them around the coffee table.

"How have you been Sam?" Dean glanced over at his brother, expecting to hear the proper cookie cutter response.

"Not so well, Mrs. Moore. It's… well it's been rough." Sam replied. "You had a wonderful daughter."

"I know my dear, I do know. I miss her very much." She rubbed at her knees, deep in thought. She took a picture from the table and handed it to Sam. "This was always my favorite picture of her."

Dean craned his neck to see. He saw a beautiful woman in a cheap t-shirt and cut off shorts on a swing with a smile lighting up her face. But what caught his attention was the sharp young man behind her. His hands rested on her shoulders, eyes bright and shining. He couldn't remember ever seeing Sam look so _happy._

"This was taken on Spring Break. We went up to a friend's cabin at a lake. They had this swing tied onto that old oak. It's one of my favorite pictures too." He handed it back. Mrs. Moore took it and looked at it thoughtfully… or maybe just lovingly.

Sam reached up, scratched his nose and swiped at his eyes in one fluid movement, being as discreet as possible.

"Ma'am, did you say you had something for Sam?" Dean asked.

She nodded. "I would have given it to you much sooner, but I only just found it a few hours before I called you. I… I hadn't made it to this box yet. It's not easy going through your lost daughter's belongings."

Mrs. Moore moved out of her chair and ventured across the room and down a hallway.

"You okay?"

Dean saw the firm set of Sam's jaw. Through clenched teeth, Sam replied, "Fine".

Mrs. Moore shuffled back down the hallway carrying a shoebox. "Here you go. I thought Jessica would want you to hang on to these." She held it out to him.

Sam took it and slid it into his lap. Then he opened it every so carefully, as if it might spontaneously combust or fall to dust at any moment. He just barely had the lid off before he clamped it back on.

His eyes were filled with tears. He sniffed quietly.

"Thank you, Mrs. Moore."

"You are welcome my dear. I know this house must have been hard to walk back into, but I'm so glad you did. I've missed you too."

They all rose and Sam waltzed right up to Mrs. Moore and embraced her. Dean always knew Sam was a hugger, but the way he held onto Jessica's mom killed him. He held on for dear life.

She escorted them to the door and hugged Sam once more. "Please come back anytime. You too, Dean."

"Thank you ma'am."

"And Sam? I'm so sorry you never got the chance to marry my Jessica."


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for all the reviews! The last chapter will be posted soon.

* * *

><p>Dean whirled Sam off that porch and had him in the car, down the driveway in under a minute after the Moore's door closed. He stomped the gas as soon as they reached the highway. All he wanted was to get Sam away from all the pain, the memories.<p>

"Dean, slow down" Sam stated calmly. "I'm fine." But Dean saw the way his hands held tight to that little box.

After a couple hours, Dean pulled off into a gas station. He stuck the nozzle in the tank, paid and went into the convenient store, returning with a sack-full of food. He parked the car a couple hundred feet over. He bounded out of the car with the food, gesturing Sam to follow. Sam, still clutching his box, jogged over to the small picnic table Dean found.

"Time for food!" Dean ginned and poured everything out of the bag. "Look" he said, holding up a salad, "I even picked up some of your rabbit food crap."

"Thanks Dean" he laughed. He snatched it from him and instantly started eating. Dean took it as a good sign.

"So…uh Sam…"

"Stop. You don't have to do that Dean."

"Do what?"

"Dean, we don't have to talk. I'm fine."

"Like hell you are" Dean muttered under his breath. Though, he had to admit, Sam was handling the situation much better than he expected. In fact, to anyone who didn't know him, Sam did look fine. But Dean knew Sam was going to crack; it was just a matter of time.

* * *

><p>"You mean Sam, our Sam, turned down the chance to talk about mushy feelings?" Bobby questioned.<p>

"That's what I'm sayin'. And I still don't know what is inside that damn box of his. I don't think he's even gone through it yet. He just keeps hanging onto it for dear life."

"He's gonna deal with it, Dean. Just in his own time. You and I both have watched him make it through the bad, the worse, and the crazy."

Dean resolved to sleep on the couch for the night. If it was space Sam wanted, then space he was gonna get.

This was how it normally went whenever one of them was upset. Growing up in motel rooms, space was something difficult to come by. So when they were upset at Bobby's, they gave the other as much room as they needed. They tried to respect the other's feelings, but mostly they just tried to stay out of the way until they were ready to talk.

But what bothered Dean was that normally if he allowed feelings to be spoken of, Sam turned to putty. Everyone and their dog knew of Sam's love of bringing up the subject. After all they'd been through the only difficultly was getting the tears to stop once he got going.

Dean was the stoic one. Dean was the one who bottled up everything, only to let it all explode every once in a while in one shockwave. Not this time.

Two days had passed and Sam still wasn't talking. And, as if that weren't odd enough, he seemed…happy. Dean could tell it was mostly show, but damn-it all if he wasn't putting on a good one.

Sam cooked, cleaned, read. He even offered to make the round for groceries. He was joking and smiling. But every time, just before he turned to leave a room, Dean could practically see the joy sliding off his face.

Bobby insisted that he not pressure Sam into talking. It probably didn't help that Dean was holding a pistol when he argued how persuasive he could be.

So he was back out where he always seemed to be: stretched out under the hood of the Impala clanking away. There was something so calming about it to Dean. Sam once told him it was because the Impala had problems he could fix.

He sat back on the workbench and popped open another beer. Everything led back to Sammy. They had shared so much together, it was nearly impossible to find something that didn't remind him of his little brother- who was currently at the upstairs window crying?

Dean flew off the bench so fast the pieces of his ratchet set fell, clattering every which way. His beer lay shattered on the floor, but Dean barely registered the noise. All he thought was _Sammy._

He raced back into the house flying past Bobby in the yard, only to freeze at the staircase. Would Sam even want him there? This was such a personal topic from his Stanford years. He and Dean never really discussed Jessica except when she related to his nightmares.

"Ughhhh!" Dean threw his hands in the air and flopped down into a chair.

Bobby walked past him, heading for the kitchen.

"Idgit."

* * *

><p>Dean was not a patient person, but he sure was curious.<p>

Sam had gone out a while earlier in full on running gear with the claim of needing some air. The first time Dean passed by their room he couldn't help but notice the opened shoebox sitting on Sam's bed. Its contents were spread across the comforter. He resisted the temptation, shut the door and returned to helping Bobby move books around.

But every time he passed by the door with an armload of books, he stared it down.

"Alright that's good enough for now. I'm gonna go finish dinner. Sam ought to be back soon…" Bobby said with a knowing look.

"He'd better be. I'm not waiting on him for grub! I'm just gonna go wash up." Dean skittered up the stairs before Bobby could say any more.

He washed the dust from his hands in the little bathroom across the hall and splashed some water on his face. Drying his hands, he kept his eyes glued to the door. He checked his watch.

"Aw screw it!"

He dashed over to the door and swung it open to reveal the box. He carefully shut it behind him. He stood over Sam's bed looking down at it all. Dean was amazed at the amount that little box could hold.

The bed was littered with photographs, drawing and several books, diaries he assumed. Most of the pictures were ones of Jessica when she was younger. Lots of unfamiliar faces stared back at him. However, Sam was in quite a few, Dean realized as he sifted through them. The couple was in front of lots of different backdrops: a mall, a couple parties, tourist stops, classrooms, the apartment. Their whole life together spilled out before Dean's eyes. In the middle of it all lay the picture from Jessica's mom's house on top of a piece of paper.

"Snooping much?" a dark voice came from behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

"Jesus, Sam!" Dean sometimes forgot how stealthy his sasquatch of a brother could be.

"Why are you going through my stuff?" Sam asked stiffly.

"You're the one who left it out to be rifled through" Dean retorted, though he knew the excuse was weak.

Sam snorted.

"Tell me about her Sam" Dean said quietly.

Sam instantly softened. He slowly sank onto Dean's bed staring at Jessica's box.

"Where do I start?" he whispered.

"Well, what's all this?" Dean gestured to the bed.

"It was her 'treasure box' as she liked to call it. She was always adding to it. Jess showed it to me when we went to meet her parents." Sam sighed like a man well beyond his years.

"These pictures are of some of her favorite memories. Um those drawings, yeah they date all the back to kindergarten" he laughed nervously.

Dean picked up one colored in bright crayon of a prince and what he was assuming was supposed to be Jessica in front of a sunset.

"She was always doodling stuff like that. Even on the corners of her notes at Stanford." Dean nodded absently.

"And this!" He held up a piece of white cotton fabric. "This was a piece of one of her shirts that I sorta accidentally nicked with the scissors… don't ask."

Dean watched as Sam picked through every item the little box had and held them up to show him. Many were trinkets he had given to Jessica. His face simply glowed as he reminisced. Sam knew the story behind every piece of Jessica found inside that box.

His hand came to rest on the picture from the lake, his constant stream of chatter gradually dying off until he was silent.

"What's that about?" Dean asked, pointing toward the middle of the bed.

"See for yourself." Sam picked it up and handed it to Dean.

Dean took the fragile paper in both hands and read:

_MY WEDDING VOW_

_To my Sam, _

_You are the single most wonderful person I have ever met. You're so kind, and caring, and just good. You always keep my best interests at heart. You are passionate in everything you do. You stop at nothing. You walk into a room, and instantly make everything better. You're strong. You make me feel so safe. You are my protector, my best friend, my love, my life. And that is why I make this vow to you my dear Sam Winchester. I vow to love and cherish you forever, and let death never do us part. _

_Yours truly,_

_Jessica_

"I thought you hadn't proposed yet?" Dean said in a gruff voice.

Sam choked a laugh out. "I'm not surprised she already knew about it. I had already asked for her family's blessing so I'm sure she got a heads up. But then again Jess was always too good at figuring me out..." He looked back longingly at the page. "This just means she was going to say yes."

Dean closed the gap between them, and held Sam tight as they both cried.


End file.
